King's Landing, the grand Dragonpit. Royal escort soldiers in black coats and black scale armor moved ceaselessly, their spirits still high in the cold. The young men were fearless, perhaps even preparing to march north to fight the wights.
Rhaegar was in his large tent. Thrimm, the one-armed doorkeeper, Cesar, the guard from Braavos, and Joffrey Arryn, the quartermaster, watched the Qarth envoys and their Qarth translator who had come to visit him. Rhaegar wore the crown of Emperor Orion, a simple golden Valyrian steel band set with large square rubies. Rhaegar wore neither a greatcoat nor black scale armor, but a black brocade robe embroidered with red dragons. He was naturally resistant to both heat and cold. He was currently the only Dragonlord.
Rhaegar looked at the Qarth people before him; they were tall and slender, with very pale complexions. The Dothraki called them 'Milk Men,' but this was not entirely a joke, as popular Qarth women's fashion favored openly baring one breast, and noble men preferred silk embroidered robes. The Dothraki dreamed of conquering the Qarth people, plundering this great Eastern city, the center of the world.
"The Qarth people are indeed wealthy!" Rhaegar observed the Qarth delegation. The four envoys represented the Qarth royal family, the Thirteen, the Tourmaline Brotherhood, and the Ancient Guild of Spicers. These four factions were the dominant powers in Qarth, engaging in a power game of intrigue and shifting alliances. These men and women were adorned with various jewels, gold and jade rings. The Qarth envoys also stared wide-eyed; they had never seen such a handsome Dragonlord, as if he were an exiled immortal from the heavens. The Dragon Prince was tall, with silver short hair and beautiful purple eyes, displaying his majesty and handsomeness. Rhaegar was a charismatic and indomitable man, a fusion of many charms: Dragonrider, commander, power player, adventurer, harpist, singer, and the Conqueror were all facets of him.
"Qarth in the East, even wealthier than Qarth, controls the Jade Gates, the center of the world!" Rhaegar felt that Qarth was somewhat similar to Pentos, where the royal family was gradually declining, and merchants were gaining real power. The envoy sent by the royal family was a woman; Rhaegar could only describe her as bare-chested, wealthy, and generous, and indeed outstanding in appearance. However, due to Qarth's strange customs, Rhaegar had no interest in this royal descendant. Playing along was fine, but if he truly took such a woman, the Dragonlord family would be utterly disgraced. The three major guilds, on the other hand, sent male merchants.
"Noble Dragon Prince, please allow me to first introduce myself. Qarth is located at the center of the world, a gateway connecting north and south, and a bridge linking east and west. Although my status is not as noble as yours, it can barely keep pace with your footsteps. You are a descendant of the Valyrian Dragonlords, and I am a descendant of the ancient kings and queens of Qarth." The beautiful Qarth royal woman said, bragging about herself and batting her eyelashes at Rhaegar, then began to introduce herself, as did the merchants. A royal descendant, one of the Thirteen, a Round Brother of the Tourmaline Brotherhood and the Ancient Guild of Spicers.
Their names were too long, and Rhaegar had no interest in remembering them. The Qarth people were always arrogant and rude, so making them submit at his feet did indeed give him a sense of vanity. The Qarth people were also genuinely convinced, after all, in front of the Old Valyrian Dragonlords, what was their status? Even if they were wealthy across the four seas, they didn't have a single dragon. Only the Son of Heaven from the ancient Golden Dynasty could compare to the Old Valyrian Dragonlords.
"What do your guilds do? Approximately how many ships do you have?" Rhaegar asked the envoys of the three guilds, first trying to gauge the Qarth merchants' strength.
"The Tourmaline Brotherhood is famous for its jewel trade! It possesses nearly 1200 to 1300 ships."
"The Ancient Guild of Spicers is based on spices! We have about eight hundred ships!"
"The Thirteen are a bit mixed; we deal in spices, jewels, and the slave trade! In total, we have over a thousand ships." The envoys of the merchant guilds proudly declared, giving a small shock to the bumpkins of Westeros!
"Hmph!" The female royal descendant said disdainfully. "Yours are just merchant ships, while our royal family controls warships and the Jade Gates!" What the royal descendant said was also true. The royal families managed affairs in Qarth's Palace of a Thousand Thrones. In addition, the royal family was also responsible for commanding the city's defenses, including the camel cavalry and a powerful fleet of warships.
The atmosphere became a bit tense for a moment, but as envoys, they still maintained superficial peace.
"Guests from afar, what benefits will you bring me?" Rhaegar asked straightforwardly.
"We offer you gifts!" All the envoys answered in unison, some even shedding a tear. In Qarth custom, shedding tears was a sign of nobility and civilization, and they always wept. The immense wealth of Qarth made all the nobles in King's Landing look on with envy, and he also wanted to see the gifts from these Qarth people. Of course, Rhaegar was probably the wealthiest person in the world at the moment, so ordinary items would not catch his eye.
"Please forgive me, noble Prince!" The envoy of the Thirteen replied, wiping away his tear. "Seeing you, I feel it surpasses all beauty in the world."
Rhaegar was somewhat speechless, but he remembered that Qarth people also had a tendency towards homosexuality, so he didn't press further.
"I present to the Dragon Prince a sculpture of three dragons!" The Qarth royal envoy offered her gift. The sculpture in the shape of three dragons: the coiled body of the dragon was gold, its wings were silver, and its three heads were carved from emerald, ivory, and onyx respectively.
"I present to the Dragon Prince spices, three chests of the finest saffron from Yi Ti. And a zebra, Prince, I hope you will be satisfied!" said the envoy of the Ancient Guild of Spicers.
"I present to the Dragon Prince treasures, three chests of amber and dragonglass from Asshai." The envoy of the Tourmaline Brotherhood was not to be outdone.
"On behalf of the Thirteen, I present a gift to the Prince. I bring you a luxurious mini-yacht, with silversmith's rings and necklaces, Qarth coins, and colorful cloths. I hope you like it." The gift from the envoy of the Thirteen seemed the most extravagant.
"I am very pleased with all your gifts. I will bring good fortune and peace to Qarth! At my request, the Dothraki have settled down considerably!" Rhaegar said. "On the overland trade routes, the Qarth people can also travel freely!"
"It is our honor!" the envoys said happily. Some of the sea and land routes on both sides of the Narrow Sea, including the Stepstones and the land routes, were controlled by the Dragon Prince. They needed to scout the way and see if they could get a share. Qarth's wealth came from the sea, which was endless. But now that the overland trade routes were open, there would certainly be an impact. They had to appease or inquire about the Dragon Prince's opinion.
"We will spread the Dragon Prince's good name far and wide, and even in distant Yi Ti, there will be legends of the Dragon Prince!" said the representative of the Thirteen.
"By the way, Prince Rhaegar, the Warlock envoy from Qarth also wishes to meet you and has brought gifts!" the female royal descendant said awkwardly. They all detested Warlocks, but Warlocks were also a faction in Qarth and could not be offended. However, the female royal descendant only offered a suggestion; the decision rested with the Prince.
"The House of the Undying, bones and lies. I advise the Prince not to meet the Warlock!" The envoy of the Thirteen spoke rudely; they always kept their distance from Warlocks.
"Let him come!" Rhaegar smiled, wondering what was inside the gourd. The Warlocks of Qarth, hearing about them was not as good as seeing them. He had no good feelings for these Warlocks; they focused on strengthening the mind rather than cultivating the body. Coming here was only because they coveted the life vitality of the dragon and the Dragonrider.
"Allow me to introduce myself! I am the Grand Warlock of Qarth, Pyat Pree." He had pale skin and blue lips. The Warlock arrived at the tent like a gust of wind, his attendant carrying a large box. The mysterious Warlock, a mysterious man, the Qarth merchants wanted to stay away from him, not wanting to be with him.
"What will you present to me?" Rhaegar looked arrogantly at the Warlock. The Warlocks of Qarth, lingering survivors among bones.
"About destiny! About prophecy! I will illuminate your path, Prince!" Pyat Pree exaggerated. "Jewels, gold, beauties, you have everything, but Prince, if you turn to us, the door of wisdom will open!"
Rhaegar wanted to laugh when he heard that. You're telling me about destiny and prophecy? He really wanted to cut down this Warlock with a sword, but he maintained his patience, waiting to see what the Warlock would perform!
"The Great Dao cannot be easily transmitted, nor can it be heard by crude men! The miracle I will show you is profound." Pyat Pree saw that the fish had taken the bait, so he continued to entice.
"Who are you calling crude men?" The one-armed Thrimm grumbled, listening to the translation, really wanting to chop this Warlock to pieces with a knife. He was a wildling from the mountains; he always obeyed only the Prince's orders.
"All of you, go out first?" Rhaegar said to everyone.
"Prince, this!" Cesar, Jeff, and the others couldn't help but try to dissuade him. "This Warlock is all over the place, even with his gifts, Prince, you can't talk to him alone!"
"Prince, can you believe what this blue-lipped old man says? In my opinion, just kill him with a knife!" Thrimm stared wide-eyed, glaring at the Warlock.
"Dragon Prince, the Warlock's words!" Everyone was stunned, somewhat disbelieving. Even the Warlock himself felt that the plan was going too smoothly. The silver-haired Dragonrider showed no suspicion, but rather fell into the linguistic enchantment.
"All of you wait outside the tent! Wait for my notification!" Rhaegar waved his hand, telling everyone to wait for his notification.
"Noble Prince, I am about to show you a miracle!" the Warlock said excitedly. Pyat Pree was very seductive; the dragon was not present, and the Prince believed his words, the plan was perfect! Who said Dragonlords were unpredictable? Now he seemed like just a child.
"Please witness the miracle!" Pyat Pree said, and the large box unfolded, revealing a slowly beating dried heart.
"You can drink this first, and destiny will become even more real!" The Warlock peddled his Shade of the Evening to Rhaegar. The Shade of the Evening was deep blue and viscous like honey when it flowed. Its smell and taste upon entry were repulsive, described as a combination of ink and carrion, but after swallowing, its aftertaste was like a superposition of all the flavors the drinker had ever tasted, and even more. Depending on the drinker's perception, the taste of the Shade of the Evening would change with each swallow—sometimes bitter, sometimes sour, sometimes sweet.
"Forget it, Grand Warlock, you drink it yourself! I can't stand it!" Rhaegar refused the Warlock's suggestion, and the Warlock looked somewhat abashed, so he drank a cup himself, his lips appearing even bluer.
All the lights in the tent went out, leaving only a floating human heart, rotten and swollen, bruised in color. With each beat, there was a deep tremor, bringing some deep blue light.
"Dragonlord... behold destiny and the future!" Dark blue shadows began to rise, and those trembling images appeared. The tragedy of Summerhall, wildfire burning fiercely, his grandfather Aegon, Duncan the Tall, and Prince Duncan the Small dying, brave people escaping with his mother. The Stepstones, the bloody battle of the Ninepenny Kings, Ser Barristan killing Blackfyre alone. Mountains of the Moon, he fought with the shouting wildlings, soldiers breaking their spears! The shadows spun faster and faster, flickering erratically, but stopped abruptly before the dragon hatched. Those past images illuminated him; they needed his fire and life. But Rhaegar stood firm, watching these scenes as if they were a joke.
"What about the future? Why is there no future?" Sweat began to appear on Pyat Pree's face. After the illusion, the person watching the illusion should have been enchanted by magic, becoming a tool for the Warlocks and the Undying Ones.
Rhaegar looked at the beating blue heart, that son-of-a-bitch Qarth Warlock, still seeking death here. He was a Dragonlord, he was fire, he was immune to magic.
"Who are you?" Pyat Pree gritted his teeth, daring to ask Rhaegar. For this plan, the Undying Ones had lent him a magical heart, which was priceless. He had to succeed, otherwise, he couldn't return to Qarth. The Undying Ones needed life, and they needed fire; their aging was inevitable, only masked by magic.
"I don't know who I am!" Rhaegar pretended to be confused.
Pyat Pree breathed a sigh of relief; even if he hadn't seen the future, this magic had still succeeded somewhat.
"You are my servant, and you will be loyal to me!" Pyat Pree said. "I need you, I need you and the fire of the dragon. Come with me to Qarth, where magic will be revived! Obey my commands, offer your fire!"
"Yes, master!" Rhaegar strode forward, not with the submission or kneeling the Warlock hoped for, but by gripping the Warlock's throat. These people who drank Shade of the Evening to try and restore their magic were nothing but an illusion.
"Thank you for your gift, Warlock. No wonder people say the Warlock's gifts are lies and bones. I will eventually destroy your dilapidated temple, leaving none!" Rhaegar wore a cruel smile as he slowly squeezed the Warlock's throat. His strength was not that of a mortal; with just a slight exertion, the Warlock felt his throat shatter.
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